“Precisely. It’s all here. It was taken from his safe, and has come into my possession; how—I cannot for the moment explain. Now what I want of you is this....”
Vulning bent forward eagerly, his eyes gleaming.
“You and I alone know of this. I have all the documents that refer to the system, but I am forced to confess I can do nothing with it. You, I believe, are the one man who can decipher it. Now I want to propose a partnership between us. You will translate this manuscript. We will work the thing together. We will get a hundred million francs out of the bank. We will share fifty-fifty. That is generous,—too generous. But then we are cousins. Well, are you on?”
Hugh sat as if transfixed, staring at the folio. The sudden sight of it, combined with the impudence of the proposal, quite took away his breath. Vulning watched him keenly.
“Takes you some time to realize it. I told you I would surprise you.”
Hugh started up. “But,” he cried, “these documents do not belong to you. They were stolen. The professor intended to leave them to me after his death. I was to publish them. It’s a sacred trust. Here, give them to me....”
He made a grab for the documents; but Vulning withdrew them quickly, and at the same time jerked a small revolver from his pocket.
“No, you don’t,” he sneered. “Stand back. I’ve got you covered.”
“You’ve no right to these papers,” Hugh protested hotly. “I’ll go and tell the police.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort. Don’t be a fool. It’s a fair offer I’m making you. You translate this and we’ll work together. Come!”